


Memories by R'rain

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 06:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jim comes home drunk, Blair gets him to open up about an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories by R'rain

Memories

So my spring break ends and the first thing I do is stay up nearly all night writing a story that just popped into my head in bits and pieces. I suppose I should be thankful that I have a very late class today. :) Please forgive any spelling and grammatical and logistical errors as this hasn't been beta-read. 

The guys belong to Pet Fly Production and probably a lot of other people who I didn't ask permission from. I can pretty much guarantee you you won't be seeing this scene on TS any time soon. 

## Memories

by R'rain  


Jim quickly stepped through the front door of his condo and shook out his short hair quickly, spraying the floor with water. Unwrapping the coat he had been clutching around his body, he gave an involuntary shiver before walking further into the apartment. "Sandburg?" he called. 

"In here, Jim," came Blair's voice from his left. He was sitting on the living room floor in front of his laptop with a bunch of books and papers next to him, "just finishing up something. Where've you been?" 

"I went out with Simon for drinks after work and I got caught in the rain walking back." Jim stripped off his wet sweater leaving on his only-slightly-damp t-shirt. 

"You walked?" said Blair incredulously, "How much did you have to drink?" 

"A few too many to risk the truck," he answered curtly, "now *please* tell me there's hot water." 

"There's plenty of hot water," said Blair, "take your time, and try not to trip over anything on the way in." 

"Ha, ha, Sandburg," said Jim, managing to hang up his coat on the second try. He walked to the bathroom without noticeably stumbling and Blair could hear the water running shortly after that. 

Half of him wanted to take the rare opportunity to study the effects the alcohol had on Jim's sentinel abilities. The other half wanted to tease him mercilessly while he had the chance. When he saw Jim come out of the bathroom, however, he knew he would do neither. The other man looked like hell. 

"Jim, are you all right?" 

Jim nodded a little and finished tying his robe around his waist, "Still a little chilled, that's all. What are you working on?" 

"Nothing that can't wait," he said, closing the computer, "Come here and sit down, would you?" 

Jim sighed, "Are you going to do the mothering thing, Sandburg?" 

"Maybe I am," he evaded, "and maybe I'm not. Depends on whether you need it." He watched as Jim got a beer from the fridge before coming into the living room and sitting down. "You gonna tell me what's wrong?" 

"Why do you think something's wrong?" 

"Well, I could tell you that it's because I'm a trained observer of people, but the truth is, it's because I know you, Jim." 

"Do you." It was much more of a statement than a question. 

"Yeah, I think I do. I at least know enough to know that this is definitely not normal behaviour for you, even under stress." 

"I suppose you want the truth," said Jim, heaving another sigh. 

"The truth would be preferable, yes," said Blair, moving up onto the couch and laying a hand on Jim's knee with more than a little trepidation. The limits of behaviour between him and Jim had always been a little blurred. 

Jim lay a hand over his and squeezed it gently, staring at the surprisingly intimate connection for a moment. "Well, I heard from an old friend today." 

"And?" prompted Blair after a moment of silence. 

"And he's dying," said Jim bluntly, the words awkward in his mouth. "He's dying," he repeated. 

Blair's eyes widened and he squeezed Jim's knee. "I'm sorry," was all he could think to say. 

"God," said Jim, "I haven't even talked to him in-- what--almost ten years now. I don't know why this is hitting me so hard. I guess it's just that he was such a strong guy. Military. It's hard to imagine him wasting away--pneumonia, cancer. The guy's half-blind, he tells me. Barely had the strength to give me that call. I just wish..." 

"That you had those ten years back?" 

"Yeah," said Jim softly, taking a long gulp of his beer, "that I had those ten years back." 

"I've been there," confessed Blair, "I lost someone like that a couple of years ago. Afterwards, I felt like I wasn't there when he needed me most, even though I didn't know. Even though there was no way I *could* have known." 

"Yeah, that's it exactly." 

Blair hesitated a bit before asking his next question, "Jim, were you and him...?" 

Jim hesitated even longer before answering, "Yeah, we were. Fifteen years ago now. Jesus, Chief, how can something seem a lifetime ago and yesterday all at once?" 

"I wish I knew," said Blair, "Jim, you're still shaking. Let me get you a blanket or something." Blair looked around and then pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over his roommate. 

"Thanks," said Jim and there was a comfortable silence between them for a few moments. "I thought about looking him up a few years back, maybe inviting him to my wedding. But I just never got around to it. I don't know that he would have liked Carolyn too much, and I was afraid that if she saw us together she'd figure it all out. Not a good beginning for our wedding night." 

Blair had to laugh, "No, I guess not." 

"Then after you moved in here, I wanted to call him up, tell him that I'd finally sorted some things out in my life, and maybe we could be friends again, but I just put it off and put it off." 

"Jim, you can't go on regretting the things you didn't do. The guy's still alive, you can still see him." Blair looked at their hands, still resting on Jim's knee, and turned his over, lacing his fingers with Jim's. 

"Chief, I don't know if I want to see him like that. I'd rather remember him the way he was." 

"Maybe you don't know how to deal with seeing him, but he obviously wants to see you, Jim. Don't deny him that." Jim just silently contemplated his empty beer bottle, which Blair proceeded to take from his hand, "I don't think you need any more of that," he said. Jim didn't argue. 

"So what do I do now?" 

"Why don't you tell me about him...would that make you feel any better?" 

"I don't know," said Jim honestly, "What about that guy you mentioned. Were you and him...?" 

Blair shook his head, "No, just friends," he said sadly, "just friends." 

"Tom," said Jim, "his name is Thomas Van De Keere. I don't know what to tell you about him, Chief. What do you want to know?" 

"Whatever you want to tell me. I don't want you to do this for me, Jim, I want you to do this for you." 

"I thought you were an anthropologist, not a psychologist." 

Blair shrugged, "I minored." 

Jim shrugged in return, "I met him in the army--isn't that a laugh. Gotta love those stereotypes. I knew him for at least a year before we...got involved. It was never easy, always sneaking around, trying not to get caught. I guess it just burned me out and I broke it off." 

"How long?" 

"Over a year," said Jim. He turned his head, which had been staring at the coffee table, to look into Blair's eyes, "Why am I telling you all this stuff?" 

"Because you're my best friend," said Blair, not breaking eye contact, "and I'd like to think that I'm yours." Jim raised his other hand and lay it on Blair's cheek lightly, caressing it with his thumb, then pulled away again and shook his head almost imperceptibly. 

"I didn't know if you'd understand," he said. 

"Why wouldn't I understand?" said Blair, "I know things about you that *no* one knows, Jim. But even besides my research, I've always wanted to know about you as a person. You know, what makes you tick. You are not the easiest person to get inside, Jim, and god knows I've tried." 

"Yeah, I guess you have," admitted Jim, "so did Carolyn and she didn't get very far either." 

"Jim, you could tell me *any*thing, and I'd still be your friend," said Blair, "um, when are you going to see him?" 

Jim sighed, "Tomorrow I guess. He's in Seattle, it's a bit of a drive. But Simon gave me a couple of days off to deal with this so I don't suppose that matters much." 

"Want some company?" 

Jim looked up at him, "Yeah, I think I could really use some. Thanks." 

"Look, Jim, why don't you get some rest. You still look like hell and you haven't even warmed up yet." 

Jim stood up but he didn't let go of Blair's hand, "Chief--Blair--I...I really don't want to sleep alone tonight." 

Blair smiled at him, a smile full of warmth and hope and understanding, "I thought you'd never ask." He followed Jim up the stairs into his bedroom and that night Jim slept under a warm blanket of Blair that stripped him of his concerns and finally gave him some measure of peace. For right then, it was enough.  
  


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